Out of Whack
by DeniseV
Summary: A bank robbery, a mistake. Actually more than one. But these men, they will work things through, figure it out.


"What happened to your foot?" Buck Wilmington said with a 'whoo-ee' and a chuckle. He knew he might be taking his life into his own hands with such a reaction, but he'd known the man sitting on the boardwalk with his foot resting on a wooden box, and cushioned by a couple of pillows, for a long time. He knew Chris Larabee wouldn't hold the ladies' man's mirth against him. Besides, based on the current situation, Buck could easily outrun his friend in his current condition.

"Ezra and his damn horse," Chris started.

"Shit," Buck said, still lighthearted. "Where's he hidin'?" he asked as he squinted through the batwing doors of the saloon to try and catch a glance of their resident professional poker player. He didn't see the gambler, and Chris was taking a while to answer. Buck looked back at the leader of their law enforcement group to catch the hint of … what was that? Guilt?

"Chris?" When the former gunslinger didn't answer readily, Buck challenged, "Aw hell, Chris. Ya didn't run 'im outta town while we were all gone, did ya?"

It still wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. Though Chris Larabee and Ezra Standish had resolved most all of the animosity that existed between them, most of the remnants of that rancor a one-way street as Chris continued to work his way back from the pain of great loss and learning once again how to manage the occasional outbursts that conveniently found a target in the person of the slick Southerner, when left alone with no one to distract them from one another, none of the other seven would have been surprised if they'd come back to find both men bloodied by a nasty brawl.

"He's at Nathan's."

"Nathan's?" Buck asked with a frown. "Nathan ain't even here, is he?" The healer Nathan Jackson and the town's preacher Josiah Sanchez, both men, along with Chris, Buck and Ezra, as well as J.D. Dunne and Vin Tanner together now known as The Magnificent Seven, were gone for a week at the reservation. It was something both men found great satisfaction in, helping with the sick or injured or pregnant or otherwise needing help. Josiah enjoyed long talks with the old, wise men of the tribe while Nathan worked with the medicine men to study more of the plants of the desert and their curative effects, learning from men who received knowledge of natural healing passed down from many generations ago.

"No, he ain't. Nettie's up there. J.D. and Mary are helping."

Buck looked over toward the livery, above which their healer and fellow lawman, who had learned a great many things as he ran wounded men into medical tents during the war, kept his clinic. "What's wrong with him? What happened? Did you hurt him just because him and his horse twisted your ankle? And when did J.D. get back?" Buck looked around town, down toward the alley. "Vin come back early, too?"

"It's a sprain, Buck," Chris said, looking up in anger, squinting at the sun shining beyond Buck's lean frame. "And I didn't hurt him, at least … " he started to go on, though seemed to think better of it.

"Least what?" The two friends stared one another down, Buck moving over to ease the rays of the sun that were obviously putting Chris in a worse mood than he already was. Chris looked away, sighed, and then turned back to Buck.

"It's my fault he got hurt, but I didn't … it wasn't … fuck!" One of the ladies of the town gasped at the language as she passed by.

"All right. First, we ain't never leavin' you two alone again." Buck had been away from town for less than twenty-four hours. Vin Tanner and J.D. Dunne were planning to be gone longer, spending a couple of days at Nettie Wells' ranch, taking care of some fencing repairs and patching a leaky section of roof on her shed behind the house, and partaking in some home cooked meals in recompense. With J.D. and Nettie up in the clinic, that meant that Vin must be around somewhere, too, unless he was already headed out to the reservation. "Second, you gonna tell me where Vin is, and third, you best tell me what went on that the two lawmen left to protect this town are both hurt in less than a day's time." Chris didn't answer in a satisfactorily swift manner, so Buck asked, "Where's Vin?" Chris nodded and Buck followed his eyes, spying Vin heading their way from the direction of the jail. "Good. Now, you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Some jackass tried to rob the bank." Another townsperson of the female persuasion scowled at the language.

"Sorry 'bout that, ma'am," Buck said as he shined his smile and tipped his hat. The scowl immediately switched to a smile as she blinked her eyelashes at the handsome ladies' man and walked away. Buck's smile disappeared as he turned back to Chris. "Yeah, and?"

"I sent Ezra around back of Potter's to get 'em down the alley."

"What? That ain't right. That is _all_ out o' whack! We talked about this. A lot. We only use that strategy when we got an extra set o' eyes. One out front, one in the back, one up high."

"He knows."

"Don't seem like it, Vin." Vin shrugged as he eyed Chris worriedly.

"Should you be here?" the man with the bad foot and the worse attitude asked the tracker.

"He ain't goin' nowhere."

Buck looked from one man to the next. Neither seemed inclined to offer further information. The mustachioed man removed his hat, ran his hand through his thick, dark hair, shook his head and laughed bitterly, any earlier humor now completely vanquished as he stood beside his two friends.

"Either o' you gonna tell me what happened or do I have to go get the story from the kid?"

"Can't."

"Can't?" Puzzlement fought with anger as Buck asked, "Why can't I?"

"He's busy," Vin answered.

"Now I know that Nettie and Mary can probably give 'm to me for five minutes to find out what the hell happened."

"The strategy didn't work," Chris uttered sarcastically.

"No damned kidding, old pard." Chris once more seemed to go mute. Buck turned to Vin. "There was just one tryin' to rob the bank?"

"Yeah."

"And he's in the jail?"

"Yeah."

"God damn if gettin' a story outta you two ain't harder than lassoin' a roadrunner." Vin snorted a laugh. "Can't figure what's so funny." Vin shrugged, Chris stewed and Buck had pretty much had it with his two friends. "I'm headin' to see J.D. and Ezra."

"J.D.'s busy," the tracker reminded the town's notorious Lothario.

"So you say but you don't say why. And what's wrong with Ezra? He get shot, beat up, someone cut 'im?" Buck figured at this point his chances were best if he, as Ezra might say, took a stab at 'leading the witnesses.'

"Ain't got no bullet holes, busted ribs 'r bleedin'."

"Is it that bum shoulder of his?" Buck asked, exasperation more and more evident as the minutes passed.

"No."

"Then what?"

"Got hit in the head," Vin finally explained. "Nasty bruise."

Buck turned to Chris. "And you didn't hit him," he said, more of a statement of fact than a question.

Chris let go a simmering growl. Vin answered for the former gunslinger. "No."

"Well, that's helpful, Vin." Buck looked back and forth between the two once more. He nodded, and accepting that he would receive no more information, he took his leave. "This has been enlightening," he said, loaded with sarcasm. "I'm gonna go see J.D."

"Don't keep 'im long. Ez needs 'im."

Buck glared at Vin. He had heard enough, but that comment could not be left unchallenged. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You'll find out."

"You two are lucky I ain't a hothead or I'd shoot you both." With that declaration, Buck Wilmington stormed off for the clinic. Chris and Vin watched him leave.

"Don't know why he'd want to shoot me," the Texan said as he sat down next to his friend. Vin felt less than welcome in the other man's company, stood and headed into the saloon for a beer.

* * *

Buck opened the door to Nathan's clinic, slowly and quietly. He found Nettie Wells and Mary Travis sitting on the far side of the room, near the table where Nathan mixed his various curatives, and J.D. sitting next to Ezra.

"Hey," the tall gunman said softly as he closed the door. "Can I see ya outside, J.D.?"

"I'll go," Mary practically whispered as her eyes kept the young man in his seat. Buck opened the door and followed the newspaper publisher outside. As he closed the door he watched as his friend placed his hand on Ezra's arm. He heard J.D. utter worriedly, 'Come on, Ezra. Ya gotta be all right.'

"What's goin' on, Mary?"

"How much do you know?" the pretty town leader countered. She could tell he knew something because, despite Buck Wilmington's easy going manner, there was more anger in his demeanor at this moment than she recalled seeing in all of the time she had known him.

"Not much. It's almost like Chris and Vin are tryin' ta hide somethin' when I know that ain't it. The two of 'em might as well be talkin' French. I know a word or two … "

"Yes, well," Mary interrupted, fully cognizant of where Buck would take the conversation if he wasn't immediately redirected. "Ezra got hurt during the bank robbery this morning."

"And that's about all I know, Mary."

"Ezra told Chris that he thought he saw a man enter the bank whose face he remembered from a wanted poster. Chris sent him through Gloria's and up the alley to the side door to the bank. Chris blames himself for Ezra getting hurt."

"Well, he damn-well should blame himself, though it's hard to tell by the way he's acting if he really does."

"I can assure you that he does," Mary said, steel in the mesmerizing eyes, fully prepared to defend her man.

"All right," Buck said, his attitude projecting that he was far from ready to accept her word for it.

"Mr. Kramer, the assistant bank manager, came out the side door and anxiously told Ezra that the robber was getting away out the front. Ezra told Mr. Kramer to get to Gloria's and then went toward the front of the bank. As he got to the side door, the robber jumped out from inside the bank, and with a piece of wood hit … " Mary looked to the door and finished, "he hit Ezra with it."

"What? Hell," the kind-hearted gunman said as he looked toward the door to the clinic. "Sorry, Mary."

"No, Buck, that's fine. We all feel the same way."

"Gloria's all right?"

"Yes. Mr. Kramer told her that Ezra told him to get into her place."

"And Ezra, he's all right? I mean, you didn't send for Nathan?"

"Nettie and I, we don't … " the pretty woman said as tears came to her eyes. "We don't think Nathan can do anything."

"W … What does that mean?"

"He's in and out of consciousness. Nathan would normally have to wait and see, try to wake him. When Ezra's been awake he's not been … aware, and he …." Mary blinked, a fat tear fell from her eye. She looked away, wiping from her cheek the dampness of more tears.

"What?" The beautiful woman shook her head. "Mary?"

"He, he thinks J.D. is his brother."

"His brother? Ezra has a brother?" Mary started to cry, she could hold in her feelings no longer. "Mary?" Buck asked as he reached for her and enveloped her in a hug. It was not in Buck Wilmington's nature to stand by and watch a woman cry without consoling her.

"Had," Mary said softly into Buck's chest. Buck rubbed Mary's back as she gathered her composure. She stepped back and said, "He's not been awake much, he doesn't really seem to see any of us, except that he seems surprised and moved every time he sees J.D., his brother. He's asked why he was here now. He asked why he stayed away so long. He said twenty-two years was a long time to wait to see him again."

"That don't sound like he's dead."

Mary sighed and said, "He said that Daniel died in a swimming accident."

"Hell."

"Now he thinks Daniel didn't die and that J.D. is his long-deceased brother."

"Shit. How much has he been awake?"

"Not very much. He's mostly been out, too soundly asleep, Nettie says. He's spoken with J.D. four times, each time for less than a minute or two. It almost seems like he knows it's not Daniel, but he doesn't want to admit it."

"The kid holdin' up all right?" Buck asked. J.D. and Buck had developed by far the closest relationship between any of the seven men hired by Judge Orin Travis to protect the town where his daughter-in-law and grandson lived. Anyone who met them without knowing their history would swear they were brothers.

"Yes, but he won't leave. He's been really wonderful, speaking carefully, making sure Ezra drinks some water. You can tell he's been in a similar circumstance, dealing with someone going through a troubling medical crisis."

"His ma. He took care of her when she was dying."

Mary offered a caring smile. "He's very gentle with Ezra."

"Yeah," Buck said, having learned every aspect of J.D. Dunne, including the deeply caring one. "Say, do you know why Chris is blaming Chaucer for his foot?"

Buck thought he saw a sly grin on Mary's face before she answered. "Because Chaucer galloped into him when Chris called Ezra's name once he shot the man who hurt Ezra. He was waiting in front of the saloon for Ezra to take him to the livery when Chris and Ezra found the bank being robbed."

The handsome man chuckled, it was hard not to, despite the serious condition of the con man in the bed on the other side of the clinic door. "I've never known a horse more devoted to his man."

Mary smiled, the first smile she'd had to offer all day. She'd started her day early, with Billy away spending time with his grandparents in Santa Fe. The single gunshot had the newspaper woman tearing out of her storefront and looking first across the street to the saloon, and then down the avenue toward the jail and the bank. She saw Chris heading to the bank, relieved and anxious all at once.

"Chaucer loves Ezra, no doubt."

"You know the feeling is mutual," Buck added. "I love my horse, but I do believe that Ezra would die if anything were to happen to Chaucer." The two suddenly no longer found amusement, the thought of the Southerner dying feeling too real.

"Well … "

"Mary, why don't you take a break? I'll stay here until you get back and then we'll talk Nettie into getting away for a while."

"What about J.D.?"

"Well, that's gonna take some work," Buck answered as he walked to the door. Mary regarded the back of the tall, dark-haired man sadly as he entered the sick room and closed the door.

* * *

"Thinkin' 'bout headin' ta bring Nate back."

Chris nodded his head but said, "He won't be able to do anything."

"Reckon 'siah and him should be here, jest in case."

The leader of The Seven swiped his bangs back. The heat was oppressive, mirroring the heated anger that Chris Larabee projected to the tracker and anyone else who tried to engage him in conversation. Mary had stopped by not long before, but a firm shake of the head from the former bounty hunter had her continue along the boardwalk across the street to her newspaper office.

"He ain't dyin', Vin."

"Yer not a doctor, cowboy, and he ain't woke again now for more'n three hours. 'Sides, I ain't gonna be the one Josiah blames for not lettin' 'im know that Ezra's in a bad way."

"Get Buck … "

"Robert's watchin' the prisoner. Buck'll take the midnight shift at the jail."

"It's late." It was nearing six in the evening.

"It'll be light 'nough still by the time I get there. We'll be headin' back 'fore dawn."

Chris stared down toward the livery from his seat in front of the saloon, not acknowledging the information Vin offered. The tracker stepped down to the street and headed to fetch his horse.

"Watch yer back." Vin felt no need to reply. He was walking in deep thought when J.D. nearly knocked him down as he reached the livery, both men too deep in their own worry to watch where they were going.

"Sorry, Vin."

"Y'all right, kid?"

"Yeah." J.D. turned to look back from the direction he'd come, Nathan's clinic, and looked Vin in the eye. "No. Ezra … "

"Still not awake?"

"No. And Buck made me leave."

"You should get somethin' ta eat, get some rest. Ya been with 'im for a long time."

"But he … "

"I know, J.D., but ya can't help him when he's unconscious and ya can't help him if ya get sick."

"I ain't gonna get sick."

"Get somethin' ta eat and go lay down fer a bit." J.D. nodded his head. There was no denying that he was tired. "Buck's with him?"

"Yeah. Nettie's back, too."

"All right." Vin headed to the clinic before getting Peso ready for the ride to the reservation. He walked in quietly to find Nettie sitting in the corner with her knitting and Buck in a chair near the bed. Ezra lay in the bed, pale, the bruise from the hit uglier than the last time Vin saw the gambler a couple of hours ago.

"Hey," Buck said in greeting.

"Buck. He any better?"

"I guess the best we can say is he don't seem any worse."

"He ain't woke?"

"Near on four hours now," Nettie offered.

Vin nodded his head as he looked at his hurt friend. "I'm headin' ta get Nate and 'siah."

Buck whipped his head over to the former buffalo. "He ain't gonna die, Vin."

"Didn't say he was."

"Then why ya goin' for those two?" Buck demanded.

"'Cause I don't plan on gettin' punched by Josiah if Ez don't make it and he weren't here ta say goodbye. 'Sides, maybe there's somethin' Nate can do, or the tribe's medicine man. No offense, Nettie. Know yer doin' all ya can for him."

"None taken, son," the old rancher replied.

"Reckon that makes sense." Vin suddenly smiled in Buck's direction. "Don't know what's so funny, Vin," he said. Vin stepped quickly to the bed. Buck made the slight turn to see what was so urgent that Vin needed to get to Ezra so quickly.

"Hey, pard," the tracker said as he sat on the edge of the bed. Ezra blinked once, then twice, lethargically, but kept his eyes open. He did not say anything, but he kept his eyes on the warm, friendly smile and the twinkling blue eyes of the long-haired man before him. "Ezra, how ya doin'?" Ezra remained quiet and kept eye contact with Vin.

"Hey, hoss, glad to see you awake," Buck said. Ezra moved his head back slightly in order to take in the gunman who was leaning in a little too close. The gambler frowned. Vin caught the attempt to pull away.

"Buck, get 'im some water," Vin suggested. As Buck followed the order, Nettie stood.

"Let me get some tea steepin', too." She stopped at the foot of the bed and said, "Good ta see them pretty green eyes, Fancy Man." Ezra smiled and then turned back to Vin. He appeared confused, so Vin carefully brought him up-to-date on what happened.

"That feller tryin' ta rob the bank whacked ya with a piece o' wood."

"Should," Ezra began, but he seemed to be struggling for what to say. Vin waited near a minute before prodding for more.

"Should what, Ezra?"

Ezra grimaced and reached for his head. Vin caught the hand before it reached the vivid bruise on the card sharp's head.

"Should not … " he said, breathed deeply, sighed, and then finished, "tha' stra'gy."

"Yeah, we won't anymore 'less we have the right numbers," Buck told his friend as he helped Ezra take a drink. The poker player stared at the dark-haired man. He smiled, and Buck happily returned it. "Damn glad you're back with us, Ez."

Ezra blinked tired eyes, but opened them fully once more, though everyone seemed distinctly out of focus. "Problem," he said.

"Problem?" Vin asked.

"Yes."

"What's the problem?"

Ezra sighed, obviously frustrated as his brain seemed to be functioning far less adroitly than was the norm. He offered a faint growl, nothing at all like the growls often heard from the leader of Four Corners' lawmen, then uttered, "Can't." He paused, put his hand to his head, an action stopped again from completion as Vin placed his hand on the hurting man's forearm and pushed it back down to the bed.

"Ya got hit hard, Ezra."

"Strat'gy," the Southerner added softly. He closed his eyes, his body ready for more sleep.

"Yeah," Vin said as he exchanged a knowing look with Buck. They watched as their fellow lawman already seemed well on the way to more deep sleep.

"No you don't," Nettie said as she stepped to the bed with a cup of tea. "This'll help you with the pain."

"No!" the gambler yelled.

"Hey, simmer down," Vin said, not happy with anyone yelling at the woman he'd come to care so deeply for, even if Ezra wasn't fully aware of what he said or how he said it.

"Vin, he's not yellin' at me. It's something else," Nettie said.

Ezra yawned and mumbled, "Myrrh," and settled into his pillow.

"Lift 'im up," Nettie ordered the young man from Texas who she cherished as much as she did her own sons.

"Come on, Ezra," Vin said as he shimmied behind the ailing man as Buck held Ezra up away from the pillows. "Ya gotta drink this."

"Sick."

"You gonna be sick?" Nettie asked. She felt Ezra's forehead for fever.

"Will be." Ezra yawned again, winced as the movement hurt his head and added, "tea."

"Naw, this ain't Mr. Jackson's tea. This will taste good," Nettie told him. "Come on, open up."

Ezra obliged. He offered a slight smile at the last swallow. "'s good." Buck replaced the pillows once Vin slipped out, allowing Ezra to rest sitting up. His breathing headed well toward sleep, his smile quickly moved to a grimace of pain. A barely heard sob preceded the tears that quickly streaked his face, falling over his cheeks to his ears and neck. A mournful 'Daniel' was the last word Ezra uttered before Morpheus took him for this night.

"Poor boy," Nettie said as she took the mug to the table and returned with a damp cloth. She wiped the tears from the pale face, ran the cloth down his neck and around his ears. Then, the old woman who had comforted many a person – family, friend, stranger – combed the damp, wavy hair off his forehead. Buck and Vin watched the gruff rancher offer the gentle caring to their friend. "Let's lay him back down," she said. The two men did as they were asked. Ezra slept through it all.

* * *

"Uh-oh. Look who's comin'."

"Hell," Nathan said as he finished checking Ezra and joined Buck at the window. He turned back to his patient, who slept peacefully. There were good and hopeful indications that Ezra would be all right. Though he slept a lot and was still slow to respond to questions, he seemed to recognize all of his friends and the few townspeople who took their turns to care for him since the cruel hit he took almost forty-eight hours before. He had eaten a meal, a few mouthfuls of broth. But the clearest indicator that he was on his way to recovery was his recognition of J.D. Dunne as J.D. and not his long dead brother.

"You want me to go stop him?" Buck asked. Chris Larabee was limping with a purpose across the avenue and headed their way.

"At the pace he was limping, he'll be here …." The healer didn't need to finish as Chris announced himself with the creak of the opening door. A grunt and a sigh came from the bed.

"Nath'n, you must address … that creak. Robs sat's'fact'ry rest." It took him a while to say it, but the gambler emphatically, finally, through yawns and pauses that nearly convinced the other lawmen that he had fallen back to sleep, made his point.

"Hell, Ez, you're almost back to soundin' like your old self," Buck said, keeping his worries close to his vest that he might not hear again Ezra Standish loading up his sentences with twice as many words as needed.

Ezra blinked tiredly and said, "Ah had moments … " but he never finished the thought. Buck and Nathan shared a concerned look as Ezra finally turned from them toward the opening door as though he had no idea that he'd left a thought unfinished.

Chris saw that Ezra was awake. "You up to talking?" Ezra blinked but didn't reply, but the others in the room had something to say.

"Chris!" Nathan and Buck nearly shouted at the same time.

"He hasn't stayed awake for five minutes at a time," Nathan protested.

"Can't what you need to ask wait, old pard?"

As Chris watched Ezra he knew that he'd been convinced to hold off on questions to the gambler. Ezra looked terrible: tired, pale, an awful and painful looking bruise covering half of the right side of his face. As bad as Ezra looked, it didn't stop him from speaking up.

"If you agree no' to hold i' against me when Ah get called to th' arms of Morpheus … " Ezra blinked as he failed to finish this thought as well. He kept trying to keep his eyes open, though, as Chris wished. He slurred, "We may converse."

"No, Ezra," Nathan objected. "You may think you're feelin' better, but you need rest."

"I can come back later," Chris said. He did not head for the door.

"Nath'n, Ah agree that rest is bes' for wha' ails …." And just like that, Ezra was asleep.

Nathan walked over and stood face-to-face with his boss. "He needs rest," he said, not taking his eyes from Chris'. "You know it. This was a serious injury. He already has … troubles. We need to give him time. He needs quiet. He needs to not be stressed." Chris continued to keep eye contact with Nathan but said nothing. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I do. But the more I think about what happened, the more I think something's wrong with how this robbery went down. Ezra's the only one who was there who can help me figure it out."

"Come on, Chris. Let's let Ezra sleep," Buck said as he headed to the door. Chris did not join him.

"I'm staying here."

"I'm not goin' anywhere, so don't do anything to wake him or I'll make ya hurt someplace worse than you're foot," Buck warned his longtime friend.

"You don't have to stay, Buck. I'll keep him in line."

Buck fidgeted in place at the door, then said, "If you're sure, Nate, then I do have somewhere else I could be." Before Nathan or Chris could respond, Buck was on the other side of the closed clinic door.

"I think he might've just set a record," the healer said.

"Probably not." The two men shared a quiet laugh and then Chris said, "I'm sorry, Nathan, I should've waited to come see him."

The former slave took an equally serious tone when he replied, "You should have." Nathan shook his head and added, not able to hide his disappointment with the man before him, "Chris, you were here. You saw it, you know how serious of a hit he took. I know I don't have no place sayin' this, considering how I've been with him in the past, but ya can't always rush to judgement, or anything else with him."

Chris swiped his hair from his forehead, a gesture of disgust with himself, and muttered, "I know."

"Chris," Nathan continued as he went to the corner and pulled out the folded cot, "I ain't so sure you do." After getting the cot ready, he turned to his fellow lawman and said, "If you're staying, you might as well lie down."

* * *

"Good morning," Mary whispered as she entered the clinic with a tray of food. She was followed by Inez Rocios with a second tray. The pretty Mexican barkeep set hers down on the dresser as she glanced over to Ezra. He was sound asleep. Mary saw the look her friend gave the lawman. The pair had agreed on another break from their fiery romance, a shock to the seven lawmen, telling them that it was Inez who made the decision. Ezra had said nothing in the few weeks since the separation. Mary would never understand why two people so in love, two people so right for each other, persisted in finding silly roadblocks to keep them apart. Inez headed to the door.

"Adios."

"Inez, why don't you stay? He'll be up soon," Nathan said. At least Nathan hoped he would be.

"No. He would not … it would not be right."

"I think you're wrong," Chris said. "He wants …." Before Chris could finish, Inez was out the door. The tall blond caught Mary's eyes and then shook his head.

"Thank you for trying," the beautiful woman who had finally stolen Chris Larabee's heart said as she prepared a plate of food for him.

"It's probably best, for now. He needs all his attention paid to getting better," the healer noted as he went to the food to gather his own breakfast.

"Inez made Ezra's favorite grits."

"That's good. Should get him to eat some this morning. He's only had water, tea and some broth. He needs to eat."

"I hope he does," Mary smiled as she poured a cup of coffee for each man. "Nathan, you were here yesterday. Do you know why Ezra mentioned myrrh?"

The former slave shook his head. "It sounded like that to me, too, but it might have been he was calling for Maude, or it could have been just a moan of pain."

"I don't know. It seemed pretty clear to me."

"Why would he be saying that, for any reason?" Chris asked.

"Ah … would … not."

"Ezra," Nathan said as he set his breakfast aside. "How do you feel?"

"Not well." The gambler reached for his head. "Hurts."

"Don't touch it. It'll only hurt more." Nathan took Ezra's hand and placed it back beside the ailing man. "How many fingers?"

Ezra squinted and could obviously not discern the number and answered, "Still ten … Ah hope."

Nathan smiled and patted his friend's chest. "All right. We'll let ya wake up first." He would not admit it, but the healer was happy to hear the smart mouth from his still worrisomely lethargic friend.

"Thank you." The Southerner turned to see Chris eating his breakfast. "Is Mr. Kramer … " Ezra began. He stopped as the room started to spin. Nathan saw it and grabbed a bowl, just in case. Ezra continued, " … in custody?"

Chris stopped eating, looked at Nathan and Mary and then back to Ezra. "What do you mean?"

Ezra struggled to open his eyes. "He … He was in … on … th' robb'ry, Mhyrr … " the former con man added as he fell back asleep.

"Ezra?" Chris called.

"Don't," Nathan said, followed closely by Mary.

"I'm gonna go get Kramer," Chris said as he took one more bite of his biscuit and limped out of the room

"He was trying to say 'Mister' Kramer, not 'myhrr'.

"Who knew?" Nathan asked. "Usually comes out 'Mistah', leastways when he's not exhausted with a head injury. Mary smiled at Nathan's nearly perfect Ezra Standish impersonation.

"And even exhausted and with a head injury he still tried to tell us what he knew," Mary offered admiringly.

"Yes he did. He's a different Ezra Standish from the man who first came to town."

"He's different from what he wanted us all to see. I am not so sure that he is not exactly the same but trusts us all to see more than what little he was willing to reveal to us."

Nathan nodded. "I'm glad he's more open. I like this Ezra better."

"I'm sure we all do." Mary knew it was true because Chris' feelings for the man had changed drastically. He was no longer annoyed by all of the things about Ezra that used to rile him up and make him unpleasant company. It wasn't always all Ezra's fault, but he certainly always knew exactly which screw to turn to pique Chris' ire.

* * *

"Where's Kramer?" Chris demanded of the bank manager.

"Quit. The weasel. He'd only been in the position … "

"A couple of months," Chris interrupted.

"Yeah. Someone who moves from Chicago to a town like this specifically for that job and then quits with no notice."

"He was in on that robbery the other day," Vin explained.

The bank manager's face turned deep red. "Why that sniveling piece of … "

The language, and the evident ire, were unusual for the normally reserved man. His tall, lean frame, barely-there moustache – the overall look – matched the regularly calm demeanor they had all come to expect from this bank manager.

"When did he quit?" the leader of The Seven asked.

"Yesterday, when we closed at five." The man who had taken over running the bank about a year before turned to Vin and said, " _Attempted_ robbery only, Mr. Tanner, thanks to Mr. Larabee and Mr. Standish."

"He still around?"

"I owe him his pay for this week. He doesn't deserve it, but I'm a man of my word. I told him to come back tomorrow for it. Told him to be here first thing or he'd forfeit it." Patrick Houlihan was a lot tougher than he looked, a lot tougher than they'd all been led to believe.

"All right," Chris said. "Are you opening at nine?"

"Mr. Larabee, we changed those hours just before Kramer joined us. Ten to four."

"Ten don't rightly count as first thing," Vin grumbled. Houlihan ignored the comment. The tracker left their company.

"You're only open from ten to four now?" the former gunslinger asked. _'When did that happen?'_ Chris thought.

"And we are closed for an hour from twelve-thirty to one-thirty for, as the Mexicans like to say, 'siesta.'"

"Ain't no other business in this town that could stay in business with those hours." The banker simply stared at the lawman in reply. "Open the side door for me at nine-thirty."

"Mr. Larabee."

"Nine-thirty," Chris said through gritted teeth.

"Very well."

The tall blond leader of The Seven headed with an obvious limp to the saloon; he was doing himself no favors charging around town on his bad foot. Vin went to his wagon for a quick cleaning of his guns. Chris stopped, looked around the town, planning next steps. He started again toward his destination. Just as he reached the saloon, the person he sought stood before him outside on the boardwalk.

"J.D., I need you to get the boys and Robert, Dave and Marty, and meet me at the church in ten minutes. Vin's at his wagon. Grab him on your way over to the Mertons."

"Sure, Chris. What's going on?"

"I'll tell everyone when we're all together."

"Is Ezra …?"

"He's as good as can be expected. Nate says he'll be good as new." Nathan hadn't said that. Nathan did not _know_ that, but there was no point in worrying the kid with all the unknowns about Ezra right now. Chris needed everyone to focus on what needed to be done.

"That's good." J.D. paused as he stepped in the direction of Marty Ellison's house. "Say, Chris, does he still think I'm his brother?" Chris smiled sadly, shook his head and headed for the church.

Ten minutes later, the church nave was half filled with full-time and part-time lawmen. Not especially inclined to leave Mary alone with Ezra, not knowing where Kramer was laying low or whether the man intended to remain so, Chris enlisted Yosemite and his son to sit outside the clinic doors, their guns ready. Mary was armed as she sat inside watching her friend rest.

"What's happenin'?" Buck asked at the church. "I had me a rendezvous in a few … "

"Ya know she's married?" J.D. queried. The young man and his older 'brother' had gotten into it as J.D. dragged the ladies' man out of his own bed. The Easterner always worried that his friend was asking for a bullet when he bedded women who were already taken, aside from it simply being wrong. He and Vin talked about it recently. Vin wasn't interested in getting into Buck's business. He told J.D. that he had to decide for himself what, if anything, he would do about it.

It appeared that the sheriff had made up his mind to do something.

"Not now, J.D.," Chris ordered.

"But … "

"J.D.!" Chris glared at the youngest of the lawmen. A look like that from Chris Larabee was all it took to quiet the man down. There was no guarantee from the way J.D. stood, his arms crossed, staring at Buck, that he wouldn't start back in on his argument as soon as this meeting adjourned.

"How's Ezra?" Robert Merton asked. The cattle rancher and town leader had become an invaluable extra set of law enforcement hands, and a good friend to the seven men hired to protect the town. Four Corners was lucky the man and his family chose their town to settle in. Ezra Standish was a man Robert's entire family held in high regard and with great affection, from Robert's wife Abigail to their three children and all the way to the family pet. Fred, the orange and white hound dog, was a member of the Merton family, but everyone had accepted that there was little likelihood that the canine Merton would ever feel about anyone else the way he felt about the man with the easy smile and recognizable haberdashery. All who knew Ezra well knew that the feelings were mutual.

"He should be fine," Nathan answered. The worried tone of the healer did little to satisfy the concern of the men in the room.

"Why are we here?" Dave Landon asked.

Chris got straight to the point. "Ezra says Mort Kramer was in on trying to rob the bank."

"Really?" Buck asked. "He seemed like a right decent fella."

"Well, he's not," Chris said, a short, angry reply. It was hard to tell whether Chris' anger was solely because of what had happened to Ezra or if it had to do with his old friend continuing with his old ways where the ladies were concerned. The two men talked about Buck's penchant for bedding married women and the danger it held both for the handsome gunman and others who might get caught in the crossfire of an angry husband. And that was besides the way quite a number of townspeople looked down on the gunman's activities, something that he'd failed often enough to be discrete about that more people were aware of his philandering ways. Chris continued, "He's the reason Ezra's … " Chris paused, then continued, "he quit his job yesterday. No notice."

"Pat can't be happy about that," Dave said. "He's only been here, what, six weeks?"

"Two months," Chris answered.

"Why don't we just arrest 'im?" Josiah asked. As someone who cared deeply for the gambler, the preacher was disinclined to allow the man to get away.

"I looked for him around town. He's hiding."

"I can find 'im," Vin declared as he looked directly at Chris. The tracker was clearly itching to go out and find the one who was responsible for Ezra's current condition.

"You won't have to. Houlihan said he's comin' to pick up his last paycheck in the morning."

"What is he, an idiot?" Buck asked. Everyone in the room looked at the ladies' man. The current recipient of the Larabee glare lowered his head and shut his mouth. Josiah offered the man a pat on the shoulder. No one needed a verbal translation; the two men would be talking sometime in the next couple of days.

"So why are we here?" J.D. asked. "Where's Marty?"

"I grabbed him coming out of Pike's store. He's watching the prisoner. We're here because Kramer set Ezra up to be hurt, and I'm not so sure he won't try something on his own." The menacing look people feared turned to the door and back to his friends. Chris Larabee was mad, there was no denying it. Ezra was a trusted and reliable member of their law enforcement group. But more than that, he was Chris' friend. He was friend to every man present, most of the townspeople, and a special person to the children of the town. Kramer would pay for his part in what happened to the poker player. The only question was whether he got caught tonight or tomorrow morning.

"You got a plan?" Vin asked.

"Yeah. I want two of us at the jail and two of us with Ezra until we have Kramer. J.D., you and Josiah, I want you two to get a few hours rest."

"That ain't necessary," Josiah insisted. "I can see this through until tomorrow."

No one would say it out loud, but Josiah, despite his belief, was getting older and had more than once fallen asleep during watch. They could count all the way back to little Olivia's time in town the many times when he had fallen asleep when he was supposed to be watching over someone, including their backs once or twice after a long journey and overnight out in the desert. No one faulted him, he was getting on in years. And he was as reliable as any of them … when he'd had proper rest.

"Me, too," J.D. insisted.

"Yeah, but ya don't have to. J.D., you've been with Ezra more than any of us these last couple of days. Josiah, you've been helping up there a lot, too. Get some rest." Chris turned to the healer. "Nate, can you get some shuteye while Mary watches Ezra and we keep Yosemite and his boy at the door 'til it gets dark?"

"You know I can, once I give Ezra a check before I do."

"All right. Buck, you can join Marty at the jail." Buck nodded his agreement but remained quiet. "Vin and Robert, give the town a walk, alleys, too, then meet me at the jail in an hour."

* * *

"How's he doin'?"

"I think he might be waking. He's been moaning. He starts to move but stops because something hurts." Mary smiled as she saw Chris follow Nathan into the warmth of the clinic. Every attempt to open the window and pull some fresh air into the stifling room seemed to bring on trembling in the ailing man.

"Whew, it's hot in here," Chris said.

Nathan spoke as he looked over his patient. "He gets cold easy, 'specially when he's hurtin'."

"Yosemite and his boy are gonna stay outside until dusk," Chris said to Mary, and as a reminder to the healer. "Nate's gonna get some sleep."

"Just need a few more minutes," the former slave said as he woke Ezra from his slumber. He spoke softly to his fellow lawman as Mary poured a glass of water and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. She walked back to pour some hot water over the mixture of tea, herbs and medicinal plants that Nathan always had ready for pain. Chris noticed what she was doing as he stepped up to the beautiful woman.

"He's hurting that bad?" he asked.

"I'm certain that Nathan will get Ezra to admit that he's feeling more pain than he was willing to admit to me." She raised the cup and she swirled the bits around to help them steep faster. "This will help."

Chris looked from Mary to the clearly pained gambler, who spoke hesitantly with Nathan.

"Don't worry none. Take a drink," the black man encouraged as he held Ezra's head up and helped him down some water.

"Ah was parched," the con man said. He licked his lips, grimacing unhappily at the chapped feel of them, as his friend gently let his head rest on the pillow. Ezra's eyes blinked slowly until he appeared asleep once more. Nathan placed his hand on the Southerner's chest and rubbed carefully. "Ah know. You wish to force some dreadful concoction on mah person." He never opened his eyes as he lazily spoke.

"Here you go, Nathan," Mary said as she handed him the mug of medicinal tea.

"Missus Travis?" Ezra asked.

"Yes, Ezra."

"Mah apol'gies for causin' sep'ration from young Master Travis. Ah … "

The newspaper publisher and Chris Larabee's current flame stepped to the bed and sat on the edge. The widow and the sophisticated gentleman from the south had become close friends in the years they both lived in the 'dusty burg', as the former con man was known to call Four Corners. Ezra still taught the children of the town in a sort of unofficial capacity, one that was fully sanctioned by so many of the mothers in the town. The two friends, along with several members of the community, were on the education committee that was set up to build a school and find a teacher. The school had been started, knocked down in a sudden, violent windstorm, and finally re-built. If only the efforts to acquire someone to teach the children brought similar success.

Nathan finished his examination while Mary replied, "Billy is fine. He's with his grandparents in Santa Fe. Everything is fine," she added, despite the fact that everything was definitely _not_ fine. The healer stepped away and nodded to the pretty woman with the worried countenance that she could grab the mug of tea from the table. He moved to the other side of the bed and once more raised Ezra to a better position to drink.

"I want you to drink all of this," Nathan said. "You need more sleep."

Ezra sighed. "Ah feel as though Ah have slept a yeah and still could sleep a yeah more b'fore Ah was fully rested." He took a good swallow from the mug, groaned and said, "Ah thought we had an agreement?" Ezra asked, opening his eyes, still shocked when he tasted what Nathan passed off as something that was supposed to make a person feel better.

"Oh, dear, Ezra," Mary said, "I forgot the honey."

Ezra took another swallow, then said, "Please do not concern yourself, dear lady. Ah will survive." The gambler quickly finished the vile brew. Nathan scowled. He never got anything but complaints from any of them for his efforts. The scowl was for naught as his patient's eyes were closed and he seemed well on the way to sleep. Nathan remained quiet, nodded at the extra pillow behind Ezra. Mary removed it and the two of them made their hurt friend comfortable. He fell determinedly asleep through all the gentle jostling.

"It'll only be another hour," Chris said quietly to Mary. "Vin and me will stay with Ezra once he's done and while Nate gets some sleep."

"Good evenin', Missus Travis," Nathan said as he headed to his room for some rest. "Thank you for all your help."

"I am happy to help. Sleep well." The healer closed the door as Mary followed Chris to the door.

"You believe Mr. Kramer might come after Ezra? That's why you have Yosemite and Junior outside?" Mary Travis steadfastly refused the common nickname that Yosemite's fine son seemed perfectly willing to accept.

"Mary, it's just a precaution. I wish I could have you leave, but I think it's best if we just hold in place until Vin finishes up."

"Where is he?"

"Kramer ain't around, except we know that he is. Vin wanted to try to find him. I gave him an hour."

Mary's eyes looked up to the face of the man she had fallen in love with. "Are you staying?"

"No. I've got to check in with everyone. I'll come back and walk you home in an hour."

"You don't have to," Mary insisted.

Chris stared at her, his mouth breaking into a smile. "You know, he doesn't mind being called Toad."

"I don't care."

"You're the only one who really calls him Junior."

"I am not. Gloria won't call him … Toad." Mary shook her head in disgust. "Neither does Abigail. Or Dottie Pike, Silvia, Eunice … "

"All right, all right. I get it." None of the mothers of the town would call the young man by that nickname. Chris smiled again. "I'll see you in an hour." He leaned down for a brief kiss and then left the clinic.

* * *

"No sign of him." Vin Tanner was not a happy man.

"Maybe he's just plannin' to pick up his pay and go," Buck suggested.

Chris looked to the prisoner. He was the one who'd actually hurt Ezra, but the leader of the seven men hired to protect their town wanted the one who had set this whole thing in motion.

"Is it possible that he just skipped town?" Robert Merton asked.

"No. He had other money in the bank. He won't leave without it," Chris surmised.

Josiah looked worriedly to his two friends. "You and Vin, you be careful. If he comes for Ezra, he'll be comin' to keep him quiet. He won't mind hurtin' you to get to him. Or worse."

"You're supposed to be sleepin'," Chris pointed out.

"Couldn't."

"Why would he risk tryin' to get to Ezra?" Dave Landon asked.

"Don't know. But the fact that he's still here means he could," Chris replied.

"He don't seem the violent sort," Buck said.

"I'm sure that's been said about many a man who eventually turned bad."

"Reckon you're right, Robert," Buck agreed. The men finished the meeting and dispersed to their appointed locations around town.

As planned, Chris and Vin were at the clinic within the hour. "Didn't find 'im?" Chris asked as he looked to the bed where Ezra slept. The leader of The Seven closed the door to the clinic after saying goodnight to Tiny and his son. He'd just returned from walking Mary home.

"He's still here," Vin replied in his normal soft-spoken tone. "Might have trouble."

"Why? You find something out?"

"Emma at the hotel restaurant said Kramer told her they were leavin' tomorrow."

"They?" Vin nodded. "Didn't know they were a couple," Chris said with a frown.

"They ain't. She said all that ever passed 'tween 'em was pleasant talk. 'Course, she's got that pretty smile." Chris grinned and Vin turned away shyly. "He got a little rough with her, grabbed her and forced her to the back of the kitchen. Heidegger didn't like what he saw and made 'im leave."

"Good for him."

"Yep. She told Heidegger what happened with Kramer and he's got everyone over there keepin' an eye out for 'im."

"That's good for Emma, but now Kramer's probably running scared."

"Yep."

"The boys are all in place."

"I saw J.D. and let 'im know what I found out. He was gonna tell everyone he could get to."

"Good."

"Am Ah s'pposed to be sleepin' or in on this convahsation?"

"Hell," Vin said.

"Sorry, Ezra," Chris added.

"There is no need for apologies. Despite how dreadful Ah feel, Ah feel it impossible to sleep any longer." The gambler reached for his head.

"You shouldn't … " Chris started, but the touch followed by an immediate wince from the man in the bed proved that he had spoken too late.

"No," Ezra groaned, "Ah should not have done that." He paused, gingerly laid his head back into the pillow and then uttered, "Good Lord."

"Yeah," Chris said with sympathy.

"Ya need anything, Ezra?" Vin asked.

"Some water, perhaps?" The former bounty hunter poured a glass and set it on the nightstand.

"You wanna sit up?"

Ezra lay silently and unmoving for several moments, then said, "That would be wonderful." He started to move, but Vin stopped him with a hand to his chest.

"No, ya dummy. Let me 'n' Chris help."

"In spite of the fact that Ah may have appeared on the move, Ah can assure you gentlemen that Ah now realize that Ah was goin' nowhere on mah own." He panted at the end, talking apparently as much exertion for him as moving.

"How 'bout you just take it easy, stay quiet, and we'll get ya sittin' up," Chris said.

"Very well." Ezra closed his eyes. Chris and Vin looked to each other; they knew their fellow lawman was not feeling well when he didn't bring up that Chris had more or less said the same thing Vin just had. They looked back at Ezra, who appeared to be bracing himself for something unpleasant. "Uh," he moaned softly in the middle of the move. At the end, he offered a weak, "Thank you."

"Breathe easy a minute. Let me know when yer ready fer a drink."

Ezra took a few moments to steady himself and then asked for the glass. He was able, despite a slight tremor in his hand, to finish the glass of water without dribbling on himself, or dropping the glass.

"Thank you, Vin."

"Yer welcome. I'm gettin' ya some tea next."

"Must Ah consume Nathan's wretched potion?"

"Yeah, you must," Chris informed his friend. "You seem a lot better."

"Bettah than what?" It was a strange question, though not likely for the one asking it. There was little doubt that Ezra didn't recall the last time he was a wake, and definitely not the delusions about his brother. Either way, the two friends would do nothing to upset the card sharp. He needed rest far more than he needed to be reminded of what had gone on today, and what was still playing out.

"Havin' an actual conversation is better than, well … you got hit real hard, Ezra," Vin said as he walked to the bed with the mug of medicinal tea.

"Oh," Ezra said as he took the mug. He trembled slightly and held the cup with both hands to try to warm up, wondering why he felt suddenly chilled.

"Make sure you drink all of that," Chris ordered, his eyes moving from window to door to the next window. Ezra found it suspicious and said so.

"You gentlemen are here together rather late," he said, taking a sip of the tea, feeling that momentary and familiar hint of nausea from the foul-tasting beverage, then continued, "One might suggest that you were guarding me."

Chris tore his eyes from the possible entryways and replied, "We are," followed by, "finish your tea."

"Yes suh," the professional poker player retorted with a salute. He drank the remainder of the vile brew and fell immediately to sleep. Chris caught the mug before it tumbled from the gambler's lax fingers.

"He sher puts on a show," Vin murmured as he removed a pillow from behind his friend and settled him into a more comfortable position for sleep.

"Idiot."

Vin shook his head. "Yep. He ain't near as recovered as all that jabberin' was s'posed to make us believe." Chris smiled. That was a lot of talk for his long-haired friend, a telling sign of Vin's worry for the man in the bed.

"You want some coffee?" Chris asked.

"Sounds good," Vin said as he placed the blanket up near Ezra's neck. He had noticed the trembling earlier. "You want me to make it?" The tracker grinned, well-familiar with the answer to come.

"Hell, no. I'll do it."

"Suit yerself, pard. I'll keep an eye out," Vin said as he pulled his mare's leg from its holster and held it at the ready in his lap as he sat in the chair near the bed.

* * *

"Thought you were supposed to be sleeping," Buck said.

"I can't," J.D. replied, his head down as he avoided looking Buck in the eye.

Marty could feel the tension between the two friends. He knew they could use some time to talk.

"How 'bout I go get us a decent pot o' coffee from Señorita Rocios?" Buck nodded his appreciation as the occasional lawman headed out the door.

Buck watched while J.D. stood forlornly in front of him. "J.D," he started, but he was prevented from continuing as he had the full force of John Daniel Dunne wrapping his arms around him.

"I'm sorry, Buck," the young man said as he worked valiantly to hold back his tears.

"Aw, ain't that sweet."

"Shut up!" both Buck and J.D. yelled to the prisoner. Buck went on, speaking to his friend, "You don't need to feel sorry, J.D."

"Yes I do."

"No you don't," Buck interrupted as he returned the hug with brotherly affection. "You're worried for me, and I appreciate that."

J.D. pulled back and wiped the tears from his face. "No, I shouldn't … it was wrong to do any of that in front of the others."

"J.D. … "

"No, let me finish. I think, you know, with Ezra. I was afraid, he was hurt real bad."

"Coulda been worse," the prisoner called from his cot.

Buck walked up to the cell. "You'd best keep your mouth shut. Ain't nobody around here who'd care if you suddenly turned up shot, or dead." He stared at the man who had hit Ezra so hard and then strode back over to the more important person in the room.

"Go ahead, kid. Keep it quiet, though," the handsome, mustachioed man said as he nodded his head to the prisoner.

"I was just sayin', the thought that Ezra might've been hurt so bad that he, I mean, the thought of him …." The sheriff paused, which gave Buck a chance to interrupt.

"Ezra's gonna be okay."

"But that's not … I mean, thank God for that. But, I got so mad when I found you with … with … "

"Her name's Betty."

"I know that, Buck!" J.D. returned, anger overtaking the upset.

"Quiet down, J.D.," Buck warned.

"Her name's Betty Comstock," J.D. continued softly, so only Buck could hear. "Mrs. Betty Comstock. Wife of Mitchell Comstock."

"I know."

"I know you know," J.D. said, looking Buck directly in the eye for the first time. He had raised his voice again, but lowered it when he said, "You could get shot, and no one would blame him for doin' it."

"Well, I don't know about that … "

"You're missing the point." Buck and J.D. stared one another down, but J.D. easily conceded. "You could be dead. Any time. It's like you don't care that people … that _I_ would be left without you. Like it means nothin'."

Buck stood there, motionless, speechless. He didn't consider what he did with the ladies as all that dangerous, though to be frank, he didn't think about that aspect at all either before, during or after his rendezvous. He would call the kid on overreacting, if it wasn't for the fact that every bone in his body – and the chill running up his spine – told him that this reaction from his young protégé was honest, raw.

Marty Ellison stepped into the jail, somewhat breathless, no coffee pot in hand.

"Josiah says Mr. Heiddeger saw Mort Kramer running out the back hall of the hotel. The boy who helps out over there, Andy, said he was looking for Emma. Josiah's headed to Mrs. Thompkins' place.

"Emma rents a room there," J.D. said. "She's friends with Casey."

"All right. Chris wants two of us here. J.D., head on over to Nathan's and let them know. Try to get Robert and Dave, too. Looks like it's best we all keep our eyes open," Buck said. "When Kramer don't find Emma, he's likely to look for satisfaction elsewhere." J.D. looked to Buck; they both knew they had a conversation to finish. "We'll talk later," the territory's famous ladies' man said.

"All right." J.D. placed his bowler hat on his head and left the jail.

* * *

"Seems ta be sleepin' peaceful."

"Yeah," Chris agreed with his friend. It was strange, the immediate bond that he'd shared with Vin Tanner over three years before upon their first meeting. The promise of that moment seemed so real, their friendship so urgent then, that Chris was ready to join the former buffalo hunter in his quest to clear his name in Tascosa, Texas, just days after making his acquaintance. The former gunslinger looked to the man in the bed. Chris had a bond with this man, too, but nothing had been easy about getting from the day they first met, Ezra Standish nearly losing his life over a simple con gone wrong, to this day. The trials and tribulations, fights and misunderstandings, lack of trust, all of it weighed heavily on them both. Their friends never thought the two would get over their differences. But something kept Ezra Standish in Four Corners, and it certainly wasn't because of its famed mecca for gamblers. The others of The Seven, and many of the townspeople, finally saw these two men, reluctantly or even subconsciously, or both, slowly but surely work at their friendship. Their pasts were so different, marked by pains one could not hide and the other went to great lengths to keep private. It had taken a fuller recovery from their pasts, a mending of a broken heart and a lost soul, to allow them to be here now, Ezra unconscious, Chris as worried for him as he could be for any of his friends.

"That's gotta be good," Vin said as he took a swallow from his second cup of coffee since starting this vigil.

"Yeah." Chris swiped the hair from his forehead. "Don't know what I was thinkin', sending him … "

"It don't do no good second guessing why ya did it. Ya know it was wrong, ya won't … "

"What was that?" Chris asked. Both men looked to the door, the sounds of heavy boots walking unsteadily out on the deck.

"Don't know. I'll go check it out," Vin said as he approached the door.

"Be careful," Chris said, but anything more to be said was stopped by the door banging open. J.D. walked in, shaky, blood streaming down his face.

"J.D.," Chris said as he stood and limped over to help the youngest of the law enforcement team to take a seat.

"Get back, all of ya," Mort Kramer said as he forced his way in right behind J.D., a gun held to the young man's back.

Chris raised his hands and said, "Let me get him sittin' down. What'd you do to him?"

"Heard him headin' 'round town, tellin' everyone 'bout me and Emma."

"I wasn't … " J.D. cut in, but Kramer stopped him.

"Shut up!" he yelled as he pushed the Easterner into Chris. They both nearly toppled on top of Ezra's sleeping form. With J.D. and Chris trying to right themselves, Kramer aimed his gun at Vin, knowing that he would be slow to pull the trigger with his friends in danger of catching the bullet. "Might as well toss that over here. Shove it to me on the floor." Vin stared him down, and Kramer fired his gun just over Vin's shoulder. "I'm a good shot, better'n you all know." Kramer glanced over to Chris to see him still holding the sheriff up, but kept most of his attention on the dangerous-looking man in the buckskins. "Drop the damn gun." With a scowl, Vin did what he was told.

"Why are you here?" Chris asked.

"He ruined everything," the former bank employee said with a faint nod to Ezra.

"So?"

"So, now …." Kramer paused, realizing now, suddenly, like an epiphany, that what he wanted to do couldn't happen with all these witnesses. This world, his life, was crumbling in front of this eyes. He wanted Ezra Standish, to take him as a hostage, but shooting him dead had a certain satisfaction. The unmoving body on the bed told him that the latter was his only option, but that choice would require more killing than he had planned. Could he do it?

"Kramer!" Chris called, seeing the man's eyes glaze over.

"He's why Emma won't come with me. He's why the bank …." Vin and Chris saw him fade away once more, but the danger of jumping him, with J.D. ready to keel over and Ezra unable to defend himself, a sitting duck in that bed … it was the wrong choice, just as sending Ezra through to the bank had been the wrong call. The card sharp survived that bad decision; Chris couldn't place him in danger with another bad choice.

"What did Ezra do? Why is he the reason Emma … " Chris started, hoping to keep Kramer focused on his story and losing focus on the goings-on in the room.

"He … _talked_ to her."

"That ain't a crime. It's a free country," Vin said.

"He talked her out of goin' with me."

Vin and Chris were pretty sure that Ezra had done no such thing. He might have talked to Emma, encouraging her to educate herself and not accept less that she deserved. They could see Ezra doing that.

The armful of J.D. wasn't helping Chris to think. Kramer firing his weapon would have everyone coming their way, and that crush of people could force Kramer to act more rashly than he already had. J.D., his hand caught between his own chest and Chris', began to yank on the buttons of Chris' shirt. The tall blond looked down, and J.D. whispered, "Nathan," tossing his chin over Chris' shoulder and toward the healer's sleeping quarters. "On three," J.D. said, and then he tapped his fingers on Chris Larabee's chest, one-two-three, a tactical method of communication he had seen Ezra use in the past. Chris trusted what the action meant, that Nathan was there, ready to take action. The two men flew toward the floor, away from Kramer. Mort Kramer looked down, confused, until he saw movement in the darkened room. Before he could redirect his gun from Vin to the phantom movement, he first heard the weapon of choice whirring through the air from the blurred image, hidden in the murky dark of dusk – and just a couple of lit lamps – but immediately felt its impact, a large knife deeply lodged in his chest. He looked down and saw the blooming red soaking his shirt.

"I … " he said, then fell hard to the floor, dropping the gun. Vin reached his leg over and kicked the weapon away.

"Hell," Nathan said as he reached to check that Kramer was dead.

"What?" Chris asked, looking from one of his men to the next to make sure everyone was all right.

"He don't like killin' 'em if he don't have to," Vin said as he took J.D. from Chris and set him on the corner cot.

"I know that. I'm pretty sure he had to."

"It was dark. Shadow messed with my aim," the black man said.

The door burst open, Buck charging in, gun in hand, followed by Josiah and Robert.

"Everything's fine," Chris said. Nathan let out a bitter huff at the declaration as he went to check his patient.

"He dead?" Buck asked as he returned his gun to its holster.

"Yep," Vin said. "Help me get 'im to the undertakers?" he asked Buck.

Buck nodded his head but first asked, "You all right, J.D.?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure?"

"I said I was, didn't I?" Buck nodded sadly and turned to help Vin. "Buck?"

"Yeah?" the former Texas Ranger asked without turning back to his young friend.

"Thanks, for asking." Buck nodded once more then worked with Vin to remove the dead body.

"I'm gonna go check in at the jail," Robert Merton said.

"Thanks, Robert," Chris said. "If everything's calm, go ahead and call it a night. Tell Dave and Marty they can go home, too. Josiah, can you take over at the jail?" The preacher looked toward Ezra, but replied, "Sure."

"See you fellas later," the rancher said as he left the clinic.

"How's Ezra?" Josiah asked worriedly.

"Sleeping. Soundly."

"Slept through the whole thing," Chris noted.

"Good. Best thing for him right now. J.D.," Nathan said, "let's get a look at you."

"I'm fine."

"Let me clean you up, take a look at the cut." The healer stood in front of the seated, quiet man. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

"Feeling dizzy?"

"No."

"Josiah," Chris said as he walked toward the exit of the clinic. The big man followed him. "Marty's been at the jail a while. Take the watch there for a couple of hours. I'm come spell you."

"No. Go on and get some sleep. I had some rest earlier."

"All right. See you in the morning."

"Yep." Josiah looked to Ezra once more and then headed for the jail.

"Do you want me to stay?" Chris asked Nathan.

"Everything's done now, right? I mean, we aren't expecting any trouble?"

"No, I think this is over," Chris answered firmly.

"I think we'll be fine. Just stay while I wake him, make sure he's all right? Ez likes to sleep, but it's a little worrying that he didn't wake up through all of that." Nathan called for Ezra to wake. After two tries, Chris gave it his own special touch.

"Ezra!"

"Chris," Nathan warned angrily.

"Nathan, could you please ask this uncouth ignoramus to leave the room? How is a person to heal?" the gambler asked, not opening his eyes

"Uncouth ignoramus?" Chris asked.

Ezra opened his eyes. "Perhaps that was a bit harsh?"

"Perhaps." Chris smiled, as had Ezra, but his wakefulness seemed to be heading downhill fast. "Nathan wants to check you out, so don't fall asleep yet.

"V'ry wellll … "

"Ezra, I need you to stay awake for a while." Nathan looked to Chris, and then nodded to the awake but listing sheriff.

"J.D., let's get you to your room."

"'kay."

Ezra, nearing sleep but always willing to try to get his way, asked, "Ah would be pleased to remove mahself to mah own abode."

"No," Nathan and Chris said at the same time. Chris kept a hand on J.D.'s elbow as he reached the door. "Good night."

"'Night," Nathan said.

"Take him to Buck's," Ezra said softly.

"Why?"

"They need …." Ezra let out a light snore. "Ezra!"

Chris grinned as he left the building, aiming the seemingly drunk man beside him to his old friend's hotel room. Ezra must have been a little bit awake to hear the tense interchange between Buck and J.D. Chris grinned again. Things might be out of whack right now, but they'd be back to normal soon enough.

The End.


End file.
